Scalper

So I'm going to cut all my hair off. These luscious locks, my pride and upmost joy. I'm going to hack them all off in the name of cheek bones.

Good call?

Currently, I posses long, fairly like waves in candy floss tangerine tones, floating around my jaw line, hanging cheekily past my nipples and possessing that gorgeous golden white quality about the roots that so many Hollywood sellouts yearn for.

However, I've decided to opt for a catastrophic change. Actual life changing aesthetic moves. The snippers are out, though I think it's time to hunt out Big Apple of Brum instead as this ain't no job for some scrawny pimpled and trembling amateur. This is the work for an esteemed, confident and artful professional.

It's going to be short, blunt cut, angular and sharp around my jawline. Thick and feisty, a bedhead rumpled mess skimming my temple. Then it's going to be overcast with a golden greying whitened peroxide, the hair of an angel if ever you saw it, with the subtle candycoloured tint of minty green, subtley radiating from my skull.

Approve?
- Again,answersonthebackofapostcardplease.

Envious

So Chanel is pretty much the single best representation of what I aspire to. Aesthetically, physically, beautifully, fashionably, wonderfully, sophisticatedly, gorgeously sensual and oh-so-chic-it-hurts baby.

I want that watch. I want that show. I want those nails. I want that hair. I want that jacket.
Oh Karl, baby boy, I want it all, pretty pretty please?

Pretties

As is this one. I can certainly declare that I am more than proud to count this young lady among my nearest and dearest.